The Bequest
Chapter 56—Amanda

"What's that?" I finally ask.

"I'll sing for all the people who have loved and hated and been annoyed with me my entire life, like I do at every one of these dumb community events. People who don't really care, but just want something akin to a real celebrity among them." He pauses. "But only if you promise to dance with me once tonight." He's the one looking around this time. "I know you have a date, and I know he's perfect for you, with his boardroom hair and his practiced smile. He probably has no skeletons in his closet, and he can drink a dozen beers at your side instead of clutching his stupid AA chip and avoiding photographs of his face, but you owe me." "I do?"

"I'm the Sexy Cowboy. I'm Heroes Ride Horses." This time, his smile is sly. "I saved your horses after that storm. I figure the least I'm due is one stupid dance." He searches my eyes, looking for...something. "Plus, it's always good to keep them guessing. A little jealousy will only help you."

Heaven help me, he's suggesting the very ploy we're using on him. My laugh is so nervous, it belongs at a speed-dating event. "Right, I mean, okay."

"So you will?" He bites his lip. "Even if I sound off-key and pitchy, you'll still dance with me?"

Somehow, I doubt that will be his problem. "I'll try and look past it." I was talking about his singing, but the way his face brightens, I wonder if he's thinking of something else. "Will you really?"

I'm not sure what we're talking about anymore.

"And, as always, Eddy Dutton has been badgered into agreeing to perform a few songs for us tonight." A tall man wearing a black cowboy hat at the front of the room gestures. "No matter how many times I've heard this guy, it never gets old."

Eddy stands up and makes his way to the front.

"And I heard a rumor he's even got a few new songs."

As he turns, I can see that Eddy's irritated. I wonder why. "They're definitely not ready to perform." He frowns.

"We don't mind if they're rough." The guy claps him on the back. "We're your biggest fans."

"My only fans." Eddy chuckles. "Maybe by Labor Day."

"We're just happy to hear you're writing new stuff. It's been a hot minute." The guy hands him the mic and walks away, but he's moving with purpose.

"I promised one song," Eddy says. "And that's all you really want, trust me."

A surprising amount of boos and heys rise up from the people in the room.

"Here's your guitar." The brunette barrel racer hands him a beautiful gold and black acoustic, and I have to suppress a twinge of jealousy. That feels like a pretty personal thing for her to be in charge of providing. "Thanks."

The tall man shows up with a mic stand and sets it up. These people don't mess around. They all want to be able to hear. The sound of chairs being shifted around, the rubber bottoms of their metal legs squeaking on the polished wooden floor, is the only sound that fills the room, my own chair among them.

"This is a song I haven't sung in a while, but I think it fits for the Fourth." I expect it to be a cover-a song I've heard before, but sung by Eddy.

I'm totally wrong.

When his fingers begin moving over the guitar strings, a little thrill runs through me. The chords are strong and sure, as if this is nothing to him. He doesn't look nervous at all. I suppose if he performed in front of thousands and thousands of people, a little meeting room with a hundred people he knows is no big deal.

I've always admired his speaking voice. It's low and easy, rich and full. But his singing voice? I'm not surprised those people scouted him for his face, but he made it sound like that was all he brought to the table. That's clearly not true. They must have known they stumbled upon unmined gold. I wonder how much it's changed since the days he was famous. Even now, as an adult, it's vibrant and thick without being scratchy or heavy.

He's singing about how life rolls along, fast and then slow, boring and nothing new. And then wham, unexpected, it socks you in the face and nothing looks the same anymore. I can certainly relate to that. The chorus, though, he sings more slowly, more forcefully. "Waves and wild wind buffeted me, until I met you. You were the course I didn't know I could replace. I'll follow you home to the end. My lighthouse, unexpected and bright. My lighthouse, loving me through the night." He looks right at me as he sings, and it feels like the entire room falls away.

Am I imagining it? Does everyone feel like he's singing to them? Is that part of his charm? I can't breathe until he takes his last breath, gently strumming the notes one last time. When he smiles at me, I begin to hope. He said he just came to tell me why nothing could happen. He told me he was all wrong for me.

But if that's true, why does this feel so right?

Now that he's not singing, I can hear a huge ruckus outside. I'm near the door, so I rush out to see what has caused it. Everyone's gathered around some man who's lying on the ground, but I notice something else. Abby's standing near the edge of the dock, and my supposed date is right next to her. They look like they're in their own little cocoon. And if Eddy sees that? He'll never believe any part of Robert likes me.

I keep watching the doorway, waiting for the moment Eddy will walk through and replace out the truth: I'm a big fat fake. Sometimes it feels like I've been waiting for the world to figure that out for my entire life. Only, just as I see him coming, there's some new hubbub behind me.

It takes a moment for me to process what happened-Abby fell into the lake!

Before I can even take a step, Steve's sprinting across the dock. I watch, completely transfixed, as he leaps off the edge and into the water. I shiver just thinking about it. The night here's always cool-so unlike the City in the summer, where you're lucky if it goes from sweltering to slightly less sweltering. I can't imagine being dumped in all that water. In the dark.

Robert's peering over the side in alarm, and I can tell he's not sure whether to jump in or not, since someone else already has. But his hesitation might be his downfall. When Abby's face crests the edge of the ladder, she's got eyes only for one person, and it's not Robert.

"What happened?" Eddy asks.

"Looks like my sister-in-law miscalculated how close she could stand to the edge."

"Some people stay far from things that are risky." His voice at my back, his breath on my ear, they send shivers up and down my spine. "That's the prudent thing to do, of course, but for some reason, some people skirt the danger, traipsing as close to the edge as they can."

"Probably true." It's hard, but I don't turn around to face him.

"Which are you?"

"What does that mean?" I can't help it this time I turn.

His grin's at full throttle, both dimples showing, beautifully straight teeth shining. "I've been thinking about our conundrum."

"We have a conundrum?" I'm not entirely sure what that word means. I think it's a dilemma?

"I think we do." His hand brushes against my arm lightly. "At least, on my side there's one."

"Maybe you should explain it," I say, "for your dopey friend."

"Don't." His hand moves to my face, brushing my cheek. "Don't ever say that about yourself."

"I "

"You're a rockstar in the social realm, with two hundred and fifty thousand followers on Instagram alone. You did that yourself, by posting helpful and beautiful content that people love to read." His eyes drop to my mouth. "And I'm like a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off and ruin everything you've carefully built." He sighs. "I tried to walk away. I should walk away. It's the right thing to do. I've done it for years now, from every drop of alcohol and from every type of drug in the world. No matter how tempting, no matter how desperate I felt, I turned and ran. I know precisely how to do it." His eyes move back up to mine. "But Amanda, this feels harder somehow. I keep circling back around." "You don't really-"

"I want to punch that shiny, slick lawyer in the face, and I don't even know the man. When he touched your arm-" His nostrils flare again. "And that's not even the worst thing."

"It's not?" Because to me, it sounded like the best.

"No." He licks his lips. "It's not."

"Are you going to share the worst?"

He shakes his head. "I can't. Because I like you too much to blow up your life." His entire face contorts. "This is a big mistake." He turns and takes a step.

I grab his arm, my fingers tightening on his very muscular tricep. "Wait."

He freezes.

"What if we were smart about it?"